


Neither Charming nor Ladylike

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Tony Stark Bingo [21]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Older Characters, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 12:24:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17683370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Twenty years after Steve goes into the ice, Peggy finds herself needing the company of someone who understands. Howard isn’t a good man, but he’s the one she’s got.MCUKinkBingo : I4 - Location: Camp Lehightisfan's Tony Stark Bingo : T4 - more than a partner27dragon's Tony Stark Bingo : A4 - Peggy Carter





	Neither Charming nor Ladylike

 

The fuss had died down; everyone had returned to the local hotels or bed and breakfasts, and a silence fell over the camp again. She was glad of that. Steve wouldn’t have liked such a fuss, and she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about what he would, or wouldn’t like.

Not surprising, really.

‘Twenty years, old chap,” she said, raising a flask in the general direction of what had once been a flagpole. _No one’s got that flag down in [years?]_ She could remember, clear as if it had happened yesterday, that tiny ball of spitfire stomping over to the flagpole and kicking the pin loose.

_Thanks for the ride._

“Ah, my darling, where does the time go?”

She tipped the flask up and took another sip, and a sip became a gulp and a gulp became drinking it dry, until her throat was on fire and her lungs were screaming and the tears that came, unbidden, ran down her cheeks.

Peggy staggered a step -- thank the stars she’d stopped wearing ridiculous heels, and was down to something sensible. Still, she almost stumbled and she kicked the shoes off, sensible heel and all, and grabbed them up, walking barefoot across the grass toward what used to be the officer’s mess.

It was still done up, all twentieth anniversary of the death of Captain America-- black bunting accented with little red white and blue ribbons.

Some political so-and-so somewhere had thought it would be morale building.

Morale building? Peggy scoffed. What utter and complete bullshit.

Maybe there was still some liquor stashed behind the bar or something. She wasn’t sure.

The crew wasn’t supposed to come in and clean until tomorrow. There was plenty of time for one ancient war widow to have a tipple or two, right? Not that she was a war widow. Still a widow, though. She’d lost Steve during the war, and Daniel only a few years ago.

Hard to remember, sometimes.

“Where’s the bloody booze?”

“Keepin’ it safe, right over here.” Howard was sitting on the floor, to the far side of the stage where all those puffed-up and self-important officers had spoken, out of the line of sight. They’d all barely been privates -- if even in the service at all -- when Steve had died. Peggy doubted any of them had ever even met Steve for real, much less _known_ him. At least Howard had known Steve.

As she came closer, he offered up a half-empty bottle of schnapps. “Come an’ take a load off, Pegs,” he said, patting the floor next to him. “We’ll have a proper toast.”

The floor was littered with bits of confetti and dirt. The ground outside had been soaked, and every single one of those officers and important politicians had tracked in mud.

 _You should be more ladylike, Margaret._ Another voice from the past. “Shut up, mum,” she muttered and hitched her skirt up to her thighs in order to sit on the floor next to Howard. She was going to absolutely ruin her stockings and she didn’t care a single dime, either. She picked up a handful of the red, white, and blue confetti and let it sift between her fingers.

“How he would have laughed at this, don’t you think, Howard?”

“If he didn’t run for the hills as soon as it was mentioned,” Howard said. He picked up another bottle -- gin, this one -- and considered it gravely before taking a swig. “Never met a man with less patience for politics and pony shows.”

Peggy considered her bottle of schnapps and then took a long swig. The alcohol would kill any germs that Howard might have gotten on the mouth. “Wish we could have brought him home,” she said, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand, probably leaving a raccoon-mess of mascara on her face. “Maybe it would feel more. Real. I sometimes think, I’m sitting somewhere, reading the paper or I’m at my desk, and I think, Steve’s going to walk in that door any minute now. Damn him. He’s _late_.”

“I’ve still got crews searching the waters up that way,” Howard said. “They’ll find him, one of these days. We’ll bring him home yet.” He watched Peggy take another long swig and nodded approvingly. “Like a woman who knows how to drink properly. All those society girls Obie keeps pushing my way, none of ‘em can take anything stronger than a flute of champagne.”

“Give them a few years of putting up with _you_ ,” Peggy said. “Or a desk job. They’ll learn.” She chuckled. “Not that they’ll drink in front of you, not yet, Howard. You’re not a sure thing. A woman’s got to be married, live with a man a while, bring up his children, before you can really trust yourself to drink in front of him and call him the arse that he is.” She raised the bottle in Howard’s direction. “And you are an arse. And a pain in mine, as well.”

“Ah, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if no one gave you the business, Pegs,” Howard said. “Gotta keep you on your toes, you know.”

“I have children, Howard,” Peggy pointed out. “They’re quite enough what for, without adding to it.” She knew he was right, though. Daniel had asked her to retire a few times; had persisted until she stopped doing field work at least. But she couldn’t give it up. “We didn’t have enough time, Howard. That’s all it was, just bloody bad luck and not enough time.” She considered smashing the bottle to punctuate her thoughts, but decided to drink it, instead.

It was not quite a heroic effort, but she made it all the way down to a few fingers at the bottom. She was going to regret that in the morning.

Not being able to decide if she would regret drinking it, or not finishing it, she decided to go ahead and polish it off.

Howard grunted. “There’s never enough time, and more than enough bad luck to go around. Obie’s on me to settle down and raise a brood, myself. Don’t see the damned point. Kids are just a nuisance. A distraction.”

“I should think you, of all people, would know I’ve never been _distracted_.” She was sweating profusely under the wool suit she was wearing, alcohol and the temperature getting to her. She unhooked the jacket and yanked it off, leaving her there in her ridiculous skirt around her thighs and a sheer chemise top. That was better. She waved her hand in front of her face, trying to circulate the air.

“Maybe I should marry _you_ ,” Howard said, smirking. “That’d put a bee in Obie’s bonnet, for sure.”

“I’m too old for that nonsense again,” she said. “I’ll be a merry widow, but I like my independence.”

“ _Cheese and bread, my friend,_ ” Howard murmured. “You’re not so old, Pegs. At least you wear ‘em well. No one would look at me now and think I used to be a handsome charmer.”

“I never thought you were so very _charming_ in the first place,” Peggy said. “But handsome enough and more. But you… you were no more charming than I was ladylike. We had too much to do for that nonsense.”

“That’s a fact.” Howard rolled the bottle of gin in his palms, then took another swig and peered at the level of it. “Yup. Looks like I’ve hit the ‘bad decision’ mark,” he mused. “If you’re gonna slug me, get me on the left and try to avoid the nose. I’ve got a newspaper interview in the morning, and they’ll want a picture.”

Before Peggy could ask what he was blathering on about now, he leaned across the space between them and kissed her.

For a long moment, she just let him. Not pushing him away, not drawing him in. He tasted like expensive booze and smelled like cheap cologne and that little shoe brush of a mustache of his tickled at her lip.

Lord love a duck, it’d been a while since she’d been kissed, but she hadn’t forgotten how to move into it, seeking comfort in someone else’s arms. She let her lips part, and Howard didn’t hesitate to plunder what he’d uncovered.

Despite that, Peggy was shocked that his hands weren’t already all over her -- they’d had that particular argument a few times, with Howard’s tendency to appreciate a round and ample backside.

She gently untangled herself and moved back a little. “Do… do you think he’d mind?”

“He was no dummy,” Howard said. “He’s been gone twenty years, Pegs. He’d want us to _live_.”

She kissed him back, not like a calming gesture, or an expression of friendship, or fondness, but like a blow. All teeth and jutting jaw and harsh breaths. She kissed Howard Stark like she was robbing him. “He was,” she said, between kisses, “the best man I ever met. And you-- you are a liar and a cheat and a _bastard_ \--”

“Christ, Pegs, you want someone to fill his shoes, you’ll be waiting a long damn time. I never claimed to be a good man. Take me or leave me, but for God’s sake don’t try to make me live up to _that_.”

“I have been waiting a long time,” Peggy said, and she yanked the chamise off over her head, raining hairpins everywhere, while she climbed over Howard’s lap, thighs splayed. “And I never claimed to be a good woman.” She reached down between them and tugged at Howard’s belt. “Think I’ll take you, then.”

Howard put the bottle down, finally, and helped her with his trousers, though they got in each other’s way more than they worked in tandem. But finally they were open and worked partway down his thighs and his John Thomas was standing up between them, all but saluting her.

Howard’s hands landed on her thighs, slid up under her skirt, over her hips, teasing at the skin just under the elastic of her drawers. “Come on, then.”

“Not at all charming,” Peggy reminded him. It didn’t matter, not really. He wasn’t charming and she wasn’t sweet. Neither of them -- Heaven forfend -- had any delusions of love. Not anymore, if Howard had ever had them to start with. It was animal need and animal greed and grief and some deep cavern of loneliness. That Howard might be the only person in the world who had as big of a hole in him as she did-- that he understood. Without ever saying a word.

Peggy knelt up a little, enough to get her knickers off one leg, braced herself with one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his knob at the right angle. Before she could give herself the chance to talk herself out of it, she lifted up, and then slammed home.

It was rough and it wasn’t pretty, and the friction was _awful_ , for just a moment. Like stabbing herself with him, rather than sliding gracefully down.

Even Howard winced a little. “Jeez, Pegs, it ain’t a _race_.” But he was running his hands up and down her thighs, encouraging.

“It is--” She gasped. “A race between me and my good sense, and you’d best keep up, before it catches up.”

“And you say _I_ lack charm.” He laughed, which felt quite odd. “You’re driving,” he told her. “You always are.”

“Get the stupid brassiere off,” Peggy told him, her hands tight on his shoulders. “I can’t breathe in this wretched thing.” A fine sight they’d look if anyone saw them, her with her skirt hitched all the way up to her hips and her hair hanging down in clumps, Howard with hair that had once been black and thick, and was now greying and thinner. At least his hands were warm; Daniel’s hands had always been cold, the last few years before he went on to the next, great adventure without her.

“Sure, sure.” Howard slipped his hands up her back and unfastened the bothersome thing with a deftness that underscored his years as a playboy. He slipped it down over her arms and dropped it to the side. Then he came back to cup her breasts, thumbing at her nipples.

Howard’s eyes were the same shade as the whiskey he frequently drank, and his mouth still held that sardonic smile. She’d known Howard most of her life. Trusted him, had that trust broken, and learned to do it again. He was not a good man, or a kind one, but in that moment, he was exactly what she needed. A partner. A friend.

She… she was getting older. Slower. Things sagged and wobbled where they didn’t used to, and she wasn’t sure if she expected Howard to point that out or not. He didn’t.

His eyes sparkled as he looked up at her, as she rode him, letting her do the work, the way he always did. Bastard. Smug bastard, even.

She licked his ear, bit at the shell, wanting… wanting to drive him to the same unthinking frenzy where she wanted to be. Wanted it to hurt in the right ways, to be ugly and dirty and satisfying. She wasn’t a good woman, and she wanted a bad man.

“Oh, come on,” she scolded him. “You’ve wanted in my knickers as long as I can remember, show some enthusiasm.”

“Well, if you insist.” Still smirking, he closed his hands over her hips and took over the rhythm, practically lifting her up and lowering her on his own -- why did she always forget that he was stronger than he looked? He nuzzled at her throat, humming with satisfaction, and scraped his teeth over her jugular like some sort of movie-house vampire. “Christ, you smell fine, Pegs.”

Her knees ached from being on the hard floor and her thighs were starting to feel the strain, but she drove herself onward. Not caring at all if Howard found any satisfaction, but determined to wring her own from him. She arched back, resting her hands on the floor behind Howard’s knees, giving him as much access to her body as he could possibly need.

Surely, as much of a reputation as Howard had, as many women as she’d walked in on him with, or the ones who’d been turned out the door in the morning-- all the ones that Jarvis had sought out when they were trying to find Dottie, back in the heydey of her career… surely he knew what to do with a woman’s body.

She was getting there, even without his help. Booze and the heat that never quite banked in her belly sending her along the way.

Howard accepted her unspoken invitation, then, tracing his hands over her curves, testing her responses. He leaned forward to catch her nipple between his lips, tongue flicking at it until she was gasping before changing to the other side.

His hand dropped down between her legs, clever inventor’s fingers searching for that nub, the spot that made heat flare bright and rush through her limbs.

She leaned back, and back, until she was almost flat over his sprawled legs, his knees poking her back, and it changed the angle until it was an electric slide, setting her on fire from the inside, racing through her like lightning. She clenched, her legs going tight, her thighs gripping around his waist. He made a sound, some sort of sound, a pained grunt maybe. She’d killed more than one man by squeezing his neck between her thighs.

But not Howard, not today. The little death, maybe. She couldn’t help it, laughing with delight, with a euphoria she hadn’t felt in a _long time_. Like she was young again, and free. No holes in her false confidence, no gaping maw in her heart.

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s what I like to see,” Howard urged. He was moving with her, and it seemed the years had fallen away from him, too. His eyes were bright and his smile even seemed sincere, the stress and frown lines smoothed away. He kept working at her, ratcheting her tighter and tighter until it seemed she was ready to explode. “Christ, Pegs, that’s-- Oh, God...”

She shrieked, unable to keep quiet, not caring if there was anyone around to hear them, or see them. She twisted, writhed. “There, oh! Oh! Harder-- Howard!” She let her head fall back and she seemed to keep falling, drifting endlessly down through some soft cloud, body swaying with it. Pleasured and pleased, and perhaps pleasing.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth as everything inside her tightened unbearably, til she was shaking in every inch of her, and then it-- let go with a wash of ecstacy. Perfect, easy bliss.

When she opened her eyes again, she found that Howard had slumped back, himself, his head hanging back as he panted, so perhaps he had found his own climax, as well. “God, Pegs.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “What a mess we are, Howard,” she said. She lifted herself off him, sticky between her legs and a little sore. “Tell me you still carry around a handkerchief like the old man that you are.”

He didn’t answer, just pulled the handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over. As she cleaned up, he managed to pull himself upright and sort out his clothing, more or less.

“I shall tell you, of course, if anything ridiculous should happen,” Peggy said. She couldn’t help laughing again. “Oh, that would make him terribly angry, wouldn’t it?” She was probably too old to end up in a family way without some effort involved, but she supposed it could happen. Thinking that it wouldn’t was always someone’s first mistake.

Howard paused to consider that. “Yep, probably. He’d knock my block clean off.” He grinned fondly at the thought, though. “Doesn’t seem likely, but if it happens, well...” He shrugged. “We’ll sort it out. One way or another.”

“You might not be a good man, Howard,” Peggy said. She didn’t bother to squeeze back into her brassier, just pulled the camisole on and let her breasts poke at the soft material. “But you’re a good friend. A good partner. The best.”

“You ain’t so bad yourself, Pegs.” He drew up his knees and draped his arms over them, looking at her thoughtfully. “He’d be proud of you.”

“I hope so,” she said, looking up at the ridiculous banners and decorations. “We’ve rather mucked it up, I think. But we keep trying, so that has to count for something, doesn’t it?” She got to her feet, balled up her absolutely ruined stockings and tucked them into the podium. Let the cleaning staff worry about them.

“Come on, old friend,” she said, offering him a hand. “Let’s pay our last respects, and get out of here.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Timing Wise:
> 
> In this AU, we speculate that Peggy Carter (she was 24 during WW2, born in 1921 according to her wiki) and Daniel Sousa would have been about 10 years older than her (36, during the events in Agent Carter) so in this timeline, he would have died at age 54.
> 
> Howard has not yet met Maria, but he's only about six months out.
> 
> Tony is NOT Peggy's son. (It is possible that she gets pregnant and Tony has a half sib he doesn't know about, as Peggy had several children)


End file.
